


Nightmare

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e19 Enemies Foreign and Domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-01
Updated: 2003-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Living nightmares.





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Nightmare**  
**by:** Kasey

**Category(s):** POST-EP: Enemies, Foreign and Domestic  
**Rating:** TEEN/R (L, Angst, lots o' evilness all around)  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own 'em, go figure.  
**Summary:** Living nightmares. 

The atmosphere in the room made the hairs on the back of Toby's neck stand on end as he entered. He wasn't even sure what was wrong, or how he knew it, but something was. Josh followed him in, chin up, with his usual gait - a forced gesture, trying to prove he knew something was up but he wasn't gonna get all paranoid. Either that or he was just unobservant. Sam trailed the two older men, looking genuinely child-like as he looked cautiously around in wide-eyed fear of what was up. 

Leo sat silently in one chair, the president in the other, hunched over, elbows on knees, hands folded, head bowed, looking at the Great Seal as he so often did. "Guys, sit down," Leo said quietly, seeing the president was making no move to speak. The three men complied, and the president looked to Leo, who gave a sort of nod as if to say "You said you were gonna do this, just get it over with already." 

"I received a phone call about ten minutes ago from Ron Butterfield who received a call from one of the agents on CJ's detail." 

"Which one?" Sam, ever detail-minded, asked quickly. 

"Rick." 

"The short one." 

"Yeah. Simon had radioed in or whatever the hell they call it - Simon had called into his sleeve that there was trouble, and Rick was the one who got there first and when he did..." He was hesitating and they all knew that was a bad sign. "They were taken to Georgetown U Hospital, both of them presented with gunshot wounds...Simon in the back, CJ in the chest..." Sam noticed as Josh absently began to rub at the spot where his own bullet wound had once been. "Agent Donovan was pronounced dead about fifteen minutes after he arrived at the hospital." 

"What about CJ?" 

The president looked up for the first time during the conversation and looked each of the three men in the eye. 

There was no need for him to say it. 

"Fellas, take the day off - there'll be...there'll be services soon, I don't know any details yet...I can't seem to get in contact with any of her folks-" 

"I'll call her father," Toby said in a low, stunned mumble. 

"For today, everyone go home - I mean it. No working today." 

"Who'll-" Sam tried to ask but got sidetracked by the lump in his throat. "Who'll announce it?" 

"I'm sorry?" 

"To the press. Someone has to tell the press." 

"Have one of the deputies do it." 

"Yes, sir," Sam answered quietly, staring intently at the deep blue carpeting. 

"Unless you feel you should-" 

"No," he answered, too quickly. "No, sir, I couldn't." The president nodded slowly - he understood completely. 

Leo watched Josh closely, knowing all too well what he was capable of when upset enough. Slowly, Josh's blank, slack expression grew tight, pale, furious, and Josh pushed himself off the couch, racing from the room and locking himself in his office. Toby paused only to mumble "excuse me, sir," before he was off like a shot as well, knocking on Josh's door. 

"What the fuck do you want, Donna?" 

"It's me." 

There was a pause, then the click of the door unlocking. "C'mon in," Josh grumbled, throwing the door open. "May as well be a damn openhouse in here." 

"Josh-" 

"He killed her. The bastard killed her because she was right. Because she was right and she was a feminist and she was-...She's always been that way, hasn't she? I mean you've known her longer than I have but as long as I've known her she's been big on feminist things and before that she worked for EMILY's list-" 

"Yeah, she's always been-...yeah." 

"I'm rounding up a posse." 

"A what?" 

"We're gonna find the asshole. If Simon's dead, chances are good the guy who did this isn't, right?" 

"Yeah, but-" 

"Not for long." 

"Josh, what the hell are you-" 

"Thanks to the Republican-controlled state legislatures, I can get a gun on just about every corner without too many restrictions, so I should be fine - c'mon, let's go." 

"Lemme get my coat and I'll be right there." Toby started to leave and was stopped by Sam appearing in the doorway. "Sam, we're rounding up a posse, get your coat, let's go." 

"What?" 

"She was one of us, ya can't kill one of us without there being hell to pay." 

"Josh, what are you-" 

"For once I'm enjoying the lack of gun laws we fought for." 

"Nonono. Don't do this-" 

"Why the fuck not?" 

"Don't do this! Posses and revenge and killing and- no! What the hell *good* does it do?" 

"Well for one thing it doesn't give the bastard a chance to get out of prison-" 

"And it's just more death! She's *gone*, Josh! You think we change that fact by shooting the guy who did it?" 

"I don't give a damn." 

"You will when you're in jail for manslaughter." 

"He's dangerous enough, I think I can make a case for self-defense." 

"...Okay, Josh, you're scaring me - Toby...talk sense into him, please..." 

Toby looked at Josh, whose eyes were bright with wild fire and anger, then looked back at Sam, then back at Josh. "Let's go get us some justice." 

"Guys-!" Sam called after them as the two headed out with plans of getting guns and justice and revenge and all sorts of things Sam couldn't even fathom as he stood in Josh's empty office, trying not to cry as he looked next door and saw CJ's former dwelling. 

Very slowly, he walked into the next room, feeling as though he was trespassing on hallowed ground. On her desk - the one that had been replaced after Charlie's prank - Gail swam idly in the fish bowl, unaware of any recent changes, and couldn't help but think for a moment that he envied the fish right that moment; Unaware, unfeeling, un-...a third thing, he couldn't even think. 

Someone would have to take care of Gail. If he had any idea what Danny was up to, he'd call...since Danny was Gail's rightful father... 

The television was still on. How perfect, he thought, since she never got to turn the damn thing off. That and the phone were the centers of her job and her...and her life and... 

On the screen, Henry was starting his briefing - he'd be doing them a lot in the future, he was a good deputy. But he wasn't one of them. Maybe someday, but...probably not. He'd certainly never be part of the senior staff family the way CJ had been. 

No sooner had Henry left the podium than the phones all over the area began to ring off the hook...including the one on her desk. Sam had to laugh at that - they were calling her office to ask for a comment about her death. 

He sat on the couch, laughing until his sides ached and tears ran down his cheeks and turned from laughter to sobs, but he didn't make the distinction - inside, he was numb, retreating to his inner-most shell. CJ was gone and Josh and Toby were scaring him and what the hell made SENSE anymore in the world? 

Outside the office, Sam could vaguely hear Carol crying and the secretaries trying to comfort her, but all of them were in tears...just like when Mrs. Landingham had died. 

"Where is she?" a familiar voice demanded, and Sam jumped as he looked up to see Danny Concannon standing in the doorway. "I know what news I've just heard but seeing as how she's CJ and she's unconventional in the way of just about everything I'm tending not to believe that she's-" 

"She is," Sam said quietly. 

Danny took a deep breath and looked around the room, his eyes resting on the fish bowl and smiling very faintly. "...I really thought she liked actual fish..." 

"She ended up liking Gail, at any rate..." 

Danny nodded. "Who's taking care of her?" 

"You're the rightful father..." 

"I didn't mean the fish, I-...There's arrangements and everything, and I just wasn't sure-" 

"The President's on it. I'm guessing, provided it's not in Ohio where her father is, that it'll probably be at National Cathedral." 

"Yeah." Danny hesitated for a moment. "I'm just gonna...I have things I'm supposed to be doing right now and none of them'll get done, certainly they won't get done well, but I should be doing them anyway-" 

"I'll let you know as soon as I know any more about the arrangements." 

He gave a rueful smile. "Yeah, like they won't be broadcast on CNN." With a final glance around the office, Danny turned and left, looking suddenly much older than his forty-odd years. 

Sam stood, very very slowly, and walked carefully to his own office, where he collapsed in his chair and, placing his face in his hands, began to sob like a child. 

~*~*~*~ 

By the time the duo returned to the district, it was late and, to no one's surprise, everyone was still at the White House, despite orders to go home. Toby had no sooner taken off his coat than Sam was in the doorway. "Did you get 'im?" 

"We called in each and every favour to the FBI, CIA, every damn agency and police force...no one's finding him at the moment, and even if they did...the one damn gun law that's gotten passed is the three-day waiting period. So after that...maybe." Toby sighed, sitting at his desk and rubbing his forehead with one hand. "Ya wanna go...get drinks or something?" Sam shrugged. "Go get Josh." 

"How's he doing?" 

"Sam...how are *any* of us doing?" 

"Stupid question?" 

"Just a little." 

Sam nodded, turned, and went to find Josh who was - predictably enough - in his office. "Toby and I are gonna go get drunk - wanna come?" 

"Sure, why the hell not? S'not like it matters one way or another, we're all gonna die anyway." 

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. 

"I mean, sure, I could do what's right, I could do what the Cancer Society tells me is good for me and I could do all that so I don't die of cancer when I'm 60 like my dad, but what the hell does it matter? 'Cause tomorrow there could be a fire or I could die of a gunshot wound - not like that's never happened before." 

"Josh..." 

"I almost did at Rosslyn, CJ did tonight...so what the hell's to say I won't tomorrow, y'know?" 

"Listen-" 

"But seriously - why can't it be someone *else* who dies for once? Why's it always someone in *my* damn family?" 

"It's not-" 

"Joanie, Dad, CJ-...seriously, I'd start watching my back if I were you 'cause soon the bullet's gonna come at me again and it's gonna miss - again - and you'll be the one standing there-" 

"Josh, you're really starting to scare me-" 

"'Cause it's *always* someone close to me and never *me* and-" With nothing coherent left to say, Josh slammed his hand against the wall so hard that the building seemed to shake, then pressed his forehead against the space above his hand as the dam broke and he began to shake. 

"...Josh..." Sam whispered, in the same tone he'd used after Josh had gone off on the president at Christmas not two years before. Josh turned and, much to Sam's surprise, clung to him, sobbing and being - for the first time Sam had really seen - completely unmanly. 

Who cared about something so stupid as macho at a time like that anyway? 

~*~*~*~ 

For once in his life, Toby was outdrunk by the other two. And after seeing that the younger men found themselves safely home, he began the walk to his apartment, staring up at the clear night sky, full of stars. 

Was she up there? 

She had to be. 

Slowly, mumbling under his breath, he tried to seek consolation, to... rationalize why his best friend had been taken from him. "La kol z'man vet l'khol-khe fets..." he began quietly, staring up at the sky, "ta khat ha sha ma yim...et la le det v'et-..." he trailed off. He would not break, he would *not*. "...et la le det v'et la mut..." 

But the words of Ecclesiastes did nothing to bring him solace as he quickened his pace to his apartment, where he could be alone in his misery. 

On the top shelf of his bedroom closet was a shoebox which had remained packed since his move to DC, full of momentos from his younger years - mostly campaign memorabilia and photographs...letters he and CJ had sent back and forth while he'd been in New York and her in California. And as he read the letters and looked over the pictures of them together, back when her hair was longer and his hair was more plentiful, he cursed the bastard who robbed him of his best friend, using every word he'd ever known, and didn't bother to wipe away the tears that made their way slowly down his face. 

She'd never seen him cry, not once. She'd seen him laugh more than most people had, but she'd never seen him cry...truth be told, he couldn't remember the last time he had cried. His mother's funeral, probably. And he was the only person who'd seen her cry in any sort of recent time frame - which wasn't a frequent occurrence or anything, just after Rosslyn, and when her father spent an entire phone conversation thinking she was her mother (who had been dead for decades) and when she'd gotten the death threats and the agent she didn't want and felt like she was becoming one of the frail, girly-women she despised so much. 

She was never frail to him. In his mind, she was always strong and witty (though not always funny) and alive and...so many things that were the opposite of her current state... 

~*~*~*~ 

She awoke with a start, thankful that she did before she saw scenes from her own funeral, trembling and looking wildly around to make sure that the darkness was her bedroom and not a coffin. 

"I thought they said you never dreamt your own death," she mumbled in a frightened whisper, trying to mask her fear for her own sake despite the fact that no one else was around. 

Past her open bedroom door, she could see the front door of her apartment. A light came through the crack beneath it, and she knew that, just outside the door, stood her armed watchman, ready to save her if need be. 

She fought the urge to call Toby just to say she was glad he was still her best friend after so many years, and she fought the urge to go to Josh's apartment and give him a big hug, and she fought the urge to call Danny and update him on how "their fish" was doing. 

Slowly, she slid back down under the covers, pulling them tightly around her chin to block out the chill that the nightmare left, and, checking to ensure that the alarm was set, she fell back into a nightmare-filled sleep. 


End file.
